“You don’t know that’s true,” Bishop growled.
“And you don’t know it isn’t. The fact that Nolan knew your wife existed doesn’t make him complicit in her death. Even if he happened to mention her to a man he had no idea was a serial killer.” I leaned forward in my chair, folding my arms on top of my desk. “Stay awayfrom Nolan Blake.”
Bishop’s eyes narrowed even further, but he didn’t argue.
“I’m going to need you to verbally acknowledge that order,” I added.
Bishop’s nostrils flared. His brows dipped, and Tucker stepped closer to his chair. Which Bishop clearly either heard or felt. “Acknowledged,” he finally growled. And I tried not to let my relief show.
“Does Billy know where Denny lives?” Austin asked, obviously trying to move us past the tension and steer the discussion back on track.
“He says he doesn’t, and a cursory glance through his phone supports that. They don’t seem to be in touch.” Vance pulled the device in question from his hip pocket and tossed it to Tucker. “Feel free to do a deeper dive into that. It’s unlocked.”
Austin huffed. “Must be nice not to need a warrant.”
“Helps make up for the fact that we lack the technological resources of even the most rural police department,” I told him.
“Okay.” Bishop glanced around at each of us. “So, now what?”
“Now, we find Cam and bring him in. Though, if he doesn’t know we’re looking for him, there’s every chance in the world he’ll come in on his own for a beer.” I shrugged. “He was here last night. But we’re not just going to wait for that,” I assured Bishop, before he could start yelling. “I’m going to go back downstairs and find out every single thing Billy can remember about Denny, in hopes that’ll give us some idea of where to look. And while I’m down there, Tucker will continue to search for an address online.”
“You need to rest,” Austin said. “You can’t go down there compromised by exhaustion.”
Vance eyed me with one eyebrow raised. “I’m sure Titus would agree,” he said softly. Gently threatening to go over my head.
I rolled my eyes at them both. “Fine.”
Austin shrugged. “I’d talk to him, but he doesn’t know or trust me.”
“Which means you and Bishop can get some sleep too,” I told him. “Vance can prod Billy for more information.”
Vance nodded. “I’ll meet you back here in…” He glanced at the clock on his lock screen. “Four hours.”
“Deal. And no one other than Vance goes into the basement during those four hours. Got it? Billy’s been fed and he has everything he needs. Understood?”
Heads nodded all around the room. “Four hours,” Vance repeated to me as he opened the office door. “Get some sleep.”
NINETEEN
Despite my exhaustion, I lay in bed with the blinds drawn for half an hour, my thoughts racing, before I finally got up and swallowed six Tylenol PM tablets. Before I was infected, one would knock me out for a good eight hours.
These days it took half a dozen to make me drowsy, and my body metabolized them way too fast for me to get the full effect. Or duration.
I did finally doze off, but I’d been awake again and staring at the ceiling for twelve minutes before my alarm went off.
Ten minutes later, I headed downstairs, my hair still damp from the shower. I was exhausted, but clean and wearing fresh clothes, and on days like today, that was about the best I could hope for.
I plodded through the kitchen like a zombie with barely a glance at Mitch, who was slicing veggies in the mid-afternoon lull. Out front, I smiled and greeted a couple of regulars at the bar as I headed straight for the coffee pot.
“Sit.” Vance turned me by both shoulders to face the bar.
“What? Why?”
“Eat,” he said, and I found myself staring at a huge plate of chicken nachos with black beans and pickled jalapeños, served with sour cream and roasted salsa. “Mitch is no celebrity chef, but he makes a damn good plate of nachos.”
“Thanks. They smell great. But we need to—”
“Titus said he’d ground you and put me in charge if you tried to work without at least four hours of sleep, two cups of coffee, and a good meal. Did you get four hours?”
